A P R I L 1 9 9 8
WINTER BARNby Deborah Digges
An Audible Anthology
A light slant snow dragging the fields, a counterwind
where the edges of the barn frayed worlds,
blurred outside in. This is what my love could give me
and with a moth's dust-colored flickering stall by stall,
in open trucks over potholed, frozen roads.
floors hosed out, yet damp, the urine reek not quite
light like ponds at nightfall. Sheep lay steaming, cloud
faced, apart, relieved of their mothers. We made our way,
named Kora, who heaved herself up to greet us,
while I scratched her forehead. Kora of the swineherds
Prodigal, planetary, Kora's great-spined, strict-bristled body
burrs and mugwort plastered at the gates.
the plaque bearing her name was gone. Maybe she would be mated.
therefore free. They lit on rafters crossing the west windows
Deborah Digges is an associate professor of English at Tufts University. Her most recent book of poems is Rough Music(1995).
Copyright © 1998 by The Atlantic Monthly Company. All rights reserved.
The Atlantic Monthly; April 1998; Winter Barn; Volume 281, No. 4; page 62.